


Second-Hand Gift

by quicksilver_nightsky



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Body Modification, Clones, Dubious Consent, Endgame Promptis, Identity Issues, M/M, Mad Scientist, Orgasm Denial, Self-Lubrication, aphrodisiac
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilver_nightsky/pseuds/quicksilver_nightsky
Summary: As his age brings impotence, Besithia makes Ardyn a gift.Years later, Ardyn has lost his taste for it. So he hands the gift over to the last of the Lucian Royals once he is captured, as a symbol of the “peace”.





	1. For You

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t look at me. This is the most self-indulgent crap I’ve ever written. The episode Ardyn trailer messed with my head. 
> 
> This chapter only has Ardyn/Prompto and Ardyn/Besithia.

He opened his eyes as the door opened. Two men entered the room — the white-haired man was familiar, he’d seen him plenty of times. But the younger man, with strangely red hair — he was new. 

The newcomer gave a slight gasp. “My dear,” he said, placing his hand on the white-haired man’s arm. “For me?”

“Yes, darling,” he replied. “I know my aging has been hard on you. I can no longer keep up with your appetites. So I’ve been working on a gift, it’s finally ready.”

The red-haired man raised his hand — and he felt fingertips against his cold cheek. He pressed into it needily. “It’s so young.”

“Aged to eighteen,” the white-haired man explained. “I considered aging it to thirty, the time we met — but I thought I might treat you to youthful vigour. And this way, you can keep it around for longer.”

The red-haired man’s other hand moved to cup his exposed cock. He whined, filling to the touch, arching his hips forward. “So responsive…”

“I’ve added a few extra features, to tend to your desires.” The white-haired man took his hand away from his cheek, moving it behind to press against the waiting entrance. “You always hated prep, my impatient darling, so I’ve disposed of the need for that.”

Two fingers pressed into the slick, flexing entrance. “Delightful, my dear.”

“Like me, he doesn’t have a gag reflex. So take advantage of that, darling.” The white-haired man drew the red-haired man into a deep, sloppy kiss. Age-spotted hands unfastened the dramatic black coat, then the layers of fabric underneath. 

Once the red-haired man was naked, the same hands roughly grabbed him and turned him to face the wall. He felt a long, hard shaft press into his slick hole. He cried out with need, hands clawing at the metal panels of the wall. 

“Oh, Verstael,” the red-haired man moaned, pressing his body against his. His lips found a sensitive space on his neck and began to suck pleasure out of it. 

He gave desperate cries at the pleasure. It felt so good, the red-haired man’s cock pressing deep into him, brushing right against his prostate. He rocked back each thrust. Every push drove his pleasure higher and higher. 

“One more thing, just for you,” the white haired man said, his voice sounding from just beside the red-haired man’s groans. “I know how much you love to edge me. Rare as I let you.”

“Yes, my dear?” The voice was excited, eager. 

“It might not be my kink, but it’s my gift for you.” Dry, aged hands reached down to stroke his leaking dick. “It _can’t_ come, not unless you fill it’s ass.”

The red-haired man, moaned. “Scourge, Besithia. You’re perfect. Such a generous love.”

There were a few more hard thrusts, and then the hard dick yanked out entirely. He cried out desperately at the loss, whimpering when he felt cum hit him hard and hot across his lower back. 

“Oh, my dear,” the red-haired man panted. “You used to make that same noise when I pulled out. I still dream about that noise.”

He felt cold as the two of them moved away, the slick noises of open-mouthed kissing behind him. 

“Put it into stasis, my dear. I want to know more about what you can do with this technology.”

He shivered as their footsteps retreated, leaving him behind, alone and needy.


	2. Like Me

Prompto looked up as the large double doors opened, but it wasn’t until he saw who was being pulled in that he perked up — head lifting from the Master’s knee. 

There was nobody around that looked like him. The Master looked closest — but he sometimes dripped icky black mess, like the daemons and Ravus. He knew the MTs used to look like him, before they became machines. (They were all made after him, to become machines instead of the Master’s special companion.)

The Master ran his fingers through Prompto’s hair, his fingertips sharpened into sharp talons. “Do you like him, Pet?”

He gave a little hum. “He looks like me, Master Ardyn,” he explained his attention. “I haven’t seen someone who looks like me in ages…”

The thing struggling between the group of MTs as they marched him along the long carpet to the Master’s throne didn’t look exactly like him, of course. It — he, the Master called it a him — was about his height and weight, had all the same number and shape of body parts. But his colours were different, and the shape of his face wasn’t the same. 

Prompto’s hair was spiky and yellow, the new one’s hair was dark coloured and hung soft and long around his face. His skin was paler than Prompto’s, and it didn’t have red splotches underneath or the strange brown dots he got everywhere when the Master let him go outside. He had weird extra layers of clothes that didn’t fit his body properly — in a weird, patterned black colour. Clothes, like the Master wore. When the MTs dragged him close enough and forced him to kneel in front of the Master, Prompto could see the colours in his eyes. They weren’t purply blue like his own, instead they were a soft, pretty blue like the sky. 

The nice-looking shape of his face screwed up as he looked up at the Master. And then he _spat_ at the Master’s feet!!

But the Master only laughed. “Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum.” 

Prompto only knew one of those words. ‘Lucis’ was a place that the Master had declared war against thirty years ago (before he was made). The place they had recently invaded and overcome. But he wasn’t sure what that had to do with all the other words. 

“Ardyn,” the new one said. 

That was a word Prompto knew. ‘Ardyn’ was the Master’s name — though no one was permitted to call him that except Besithia. He wondered why the new one was allowed to…

“It took my pets some time to find you,” the Master said — and the way he said it made it sound like that it was something the other one had done on purpose. 

The other one didn’t answer, just gave the Master an unimpressed look. 

“But we have you now,” the Master continued, stroking his clawed fingers through Prompto’s hair. “The last of the Lucian’s forces will be crushed without its King of Light to rally around.”

The new one ignored the Master’s words — he must be very badly trained — looking in disgust at Prompto. “You keep underage fuck slaves now?” He asked, his voice curling up in disgust.

“He was a dear gift, made only a few months after you, Noct,” the Master replied, amused. “He’s no more ‘underaged’ than you are.”

The new one looked away, his face still wrinkled up in disgust. “You’re a monster.”

“Prompto, my dear pet,” the Master said calmly. He perked up to attention. The Master made a gesture in the new one’s direction. 

He hesitated, giving the Master a sad, pleading look. He didn’t want to hurt the new one. The new one was like him. 

But the Master’s eyes only hardened. With a sad look, he sighed and obeyed. 

The new one made a startled noise before his air was cut off, Prompto’s forearm crushed against his windpipe — body pinning him against the marble floor of the room. The pretty blue eyes looked up at him in terror, his body struggling uselessly to escape. Sadly, Prompto looked away. He didn’t want to see the light to out of the pretty blue eyes. Didn’t want to kill someone who was like him. 

The Master rose from his seat, heels clicking as he came to stand above them. “He’s not a simple fuckslave, my dear boy,” he explained. “He’s my loyal attack dog. But it’s so interesting you thought that just looking at him. Projecting, perhaps?”

The new one’s nails were clawing desperately at his arm, trying to free himself. 

“Prompto? Down.”

Startled by the new command, he threw himself back. The Master never ordered him to stop before they were dead. 

The new one coughed and hacked to get breath back. He curled onto his side, massaging his neck. “Fuck you,” he managed out. 

“Well, if you truly wish to.” The Master returned to his seat — but didn’t gesture for Prompto to come by his side. (He stayed where he was, crouched on the marble floor. Ready to attack.) Instead, he summoned the MTs back with a snap of his fingers. “Take him down to the bath house. Have him prepared. The Prince wishes to spend the night in my bed.”

Pretty blue eyes only glared at the Master with hatred as his limp body was dragged back out of the throne room. 

Prompto watched him go, sad. He wished that could have gone somehow differently. 

When the Master gestured, he headed over to rest his head in his lap again, let the clawed fingers stroke through his hair. 

It was all the Master really used him for these days. He knew he’d been made as a gift for him, to be used for pleasure. But the Master has asked Besithia to give him more. To make him fast, a deadshot, and a perfect killer. He didn’t like all that so much — and now it was really all the Master wanted him for. Other than to pet and keep company in the throne room. 

“What’s the matter, Pet?” He asked, using one sharp talon to lift his chin so their eyes met. 

“...are… are you really going to fuck him, Master?” He asked, a sad feeling crushing in his chest. 

“Jealous, Pet?” The Master asked, his eyes shining with amusement. 

“I don’t want you to fuck _him_ ,” he admitted. “That’s what he made me for.”

“Indeed.” The Master let his chin drop back down. “Worry not, Pet. _I_ won’t be fucking him. I only want _him_ to believe that.” Eyes still shining with amusement, he returned to silently watching the empty room. 

Prompto wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. But the Master wasn’t going to be using anyone else. And that was a good thing. He wouldn’t be going back to Stasis again because he didn’t have any use. 


	3. A First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubious Consent warning - possible non-con if you read it that way. Clarification in bottom notes.

He was curled up on the Master’s luxurious bed, enjoying the feel of the silky sheets surrounding his body. The shivers of pleasure down his spine were chased by round fingertips. With warm affection in his chest, he lifted his head so he could raise his eyes to the Master’s face. 

The deep thrusts down his throat stopped, as deep brown eyes met his own. “You’re so devoted aren’t you, Pet?” Without waiting for a response Prompto would’ve struggled to give with his mouth busy, he pulled out completely. 

Prompto hurried to make sure he didn’t drool everywhere with the sudden emptiness. The Master always hated that. He was already softening, Prompto noticed guiltily. Hadn’t he been good enough? He stayed in his curl on the bed, watching the Master through the gap in the sheets as he got up and pulled a silky dressing robe over his pale skin. 

“Should I…?”

“Just remain there, Pet,” the Master snapped impatiently. “Our guest will be along soon.”

Right. The new one. An anxious twist in his stomach, he tried to settle on the bed inconspicuously. Hopefully he wouldn’t be spotted there. 

The Master stood by the window and drank a dark red wine from a delicate crystal goblet. 

Eventually the bedroom door opened and the MTs thrust the new one in before the door was slammed closed again. Prompto peeked at him from between the folds of the sheets. 

He looked much cleaner. The strange black clothes were gone now, and he was only wearing a pair of silky red boxers. He must not have had much to eat, he was really skinny — but there was some muscles in his shoulders and arms. 

He stood tall and glared hard at the Master. “Ardyn,” he spat coldly. 

“Noctis,” the Master returned. He gestured to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I’d rather not,” he deadpanned. 

“That wasn’t an offer.”

The new one — Noctis? Was that his name? — climbed on top of the bed. Prompto whined as his knee knocked into his face, grabbing at it. “Ow, my nose!”

“Shiva’s bangle! He’s in your _bed_?” Noctis demanded, yanking his legs back up. 

“He likes to be there,” the Master replied, amused. He lifted the sheet to look down at him. “Did our guest break your nose, Pet?”

“No,” he complained. “Just bumped it.”

Ardyn’s round forefinger reached to boop his nose, and he gave a playful grin as he felt familiar healing magic wash over his ache. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you, Master.” 

Noctis made a disgusted noise, but he ignored it as he settled back into the sheets. 

“You must be hungry,” the Master was saying. “Some fruit? Wine?”

“And let you drug me?” Noctis sneered. “I’d rather starve.”

He chuckled. “Suit yourself.” He brought the tray over to the bed. 

First, he took a mouthful of wine into his mouth, then gently tugged Prompto up to kiss him — sharing the wine into his mouth. He made a pleased noise, pressing close to him. Being allowed wine was rare enough — the taste was rich and spicy on his tongue — but he was eager for the kisses more than anything else. This kind of affection from the Master was a rare treasure. 

“Disgusting,” Noctis hissed from behind him — but there was something strange about his voice. A little breathless, the sound of it tight. 

The Master pulled away, smirking. “Comfortable, your highness?” He asked mockingly. 

“I’m fine!” Noctis hissed back at him, sounding angry. 

Prompto ignored him as best as he could. The Master picked up little slivers of fruit and began feeding him with his fingers. As it continued, he began to press his fingers into Prompto’s mouth so he could lick them clean if the juices. 

Distantly, he was aware of Noctis’s breathing getting heavier and more laboured — but it wasn’t until he gave a quiet moan that the fact really caught Prompto’s attention. 

The Master, his fingers still deep in Prompto’s mouth, smirked over Prompto’s shoulder. “Something the matter, Highness?” 

“What did you _do_?” Noctis demanded, his voice stretching with a needy moan. 

“You were right to be wary,” the Master answered, sounding amused. His fingers pumped in and out of Prompto’s mouth in a parody of sex. “But the aphrodisiac wasn’t in the wine. It was in the bath oils, the soap, the shampoo.”

“Fuck… _you_ …” Noctis ground out. 

“That was your request,” the Master answered, almost laughing as he spoke. “And now you’re more than amenable.” He withdrew his fingers. “Prompto, Pet — our guest could use a demonstration of that talented mouth.”

Confused, he looked from the Master’s amused expression over to Noctis. The new one was flushed, a pretty pink underneath his pale skin. And the red silk of the bed sheets had clung to him — around his swollen dick and dark with dampness around his tip. 

He gave the Master another confused look. But his gaze only hardened, and he nodded at Prompto. 

Uncertain, he shifted under the sheets and towards Noctis’s lap. This was what his Master commanded, but he couldn’t help feel unsteady about it. Sometimes Besithia had been there too, at least in the early days, but he’d never pleasured anyone but Ardyn. He was his gift, not his object to be shared. But if this was his command, Prompto had to agree…

As he lowered the boxers and set his mouth around Noctis’s dick, the other gave a desperate cry of pleasure and thrust up hard. 

He made an annoyed hum around him as his dick pressed deep into his throat. So Ardyn might spend most of his time buried in Prompto’s throat but — other than the fact Noctis seemed a little bigger — he never just started right off with the deepthroat. He shifted his hips up to grab Noctis’s hips and press them down into the mattress to take control of the depth. 

The Master was tutting in disapproval. “Manners, your highness,” he said mockingly. 

“Shut… up!” Noctis hissed between moans of pleasure. 

“And here I thought that bespectacled gentleman of yours did _everything_ for you. Not this, it seems.”

Noctis apparently chose to ignore him. He shifted his hands beneath the sheets so he could grip Prompto — one hand on his shoulder, the other threading in his hair surprisingly gently. 

Prompto could feel the dick in his mouth swelling as he got closer to pleasure. He hummed encouragingly and swallowed him impossibly deeper. 

He mouth and throat flooded with thick, viscous fluid and he made a quiet noise of surprise as he swallowed as much of it as he could. It was nothing like Ardyn’s spend. He pulled back to lap him clean as he softened.

Except. 

Noctis didn’t go soft like the Master did after he’d come. Prompto made a noise of confusion, and Noctis yelled in frustration. 

The Master laughed. “Yes. I see you’ve noticed. Worry not, Prince Noctis. It _should_ wear off by the morning.”

It _sounded_ like he was leaving, so Prompto hurried to emerge from the sheets to check he wasn’t. 

The Master only smirked at him. Not at Noctis, at him. “No, no. Prompto. You stay and take care of our guest.” 

“Master…?” He asked, his voice hurt. 

“I’ll return for you both on the morrow. Enjoy your evening.” And then he walked out, laughing — the door locking behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis is drugged with an aphrodisiac, and Prompto performs oral sex on him because Ardyn tells him to.


End file.
